


Unfinished Business

by Amelita, Miyanoai



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Guns, M/M, Obsessive Asami, Prison, Underage Akihito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/pseuds/Amelita, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyanoai/pseuds/Miyanoai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are judged by what we finish, not what we start. (One shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HappyCamperSunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCamperSunny/gifts).



> Dedicated to HappyCamperSunny. She and I have been talking a bit about her fic, its also a love story about a big bad mafioso unable to deal with his feelings (heh-heh). And of course, after she told me the plot, I desperately wanted to read it. Sadly it is in German. But, as a surprise, she translated part of it just for me and I just have to say.... WOW. Its amazing, just that small piece and you still feel every moment, I urge you to go check it out!! Thank you so much HappyCamperSunny! You are awesome!! I read your fic and even though I was supposed to be vegging out and not writing.... it inspired me to write this for you. HUGS!

 

It was in every way superior to his previous cell.

The twenty by twenty room was large, with ample room for him to exercise and do his calisthenics. He had a large window overlooking the city, breaking up the monotonous grey of the concrete block walls and allowing him to keep track of the days. There was thin mattress on a ledge, a table, chair and combined toilet-shower alcove which eliminated the need for him to go to the group showers. And best of all; no cellmate.

Asami smirked, they had finally learned. He had been starting to wonder just how many of his fellow prisoners he was going to have to kill to get his own room. Despite the fact that each and every one had been in self-defense, the warden had finally deemed that it would be safer for everyone in the prison if Asami Ryuichi carried out the rest of his sentence in solitary confinement.

Beyond the basic necessities, there were no extra comforts provided. He had no clothes other than the absurd orange one piece jumpsuit. It was like an adult onesie, operated by a single zipper up the front and was the exact same eye-watering shade as a traffic cone. Ridiculous.

He was allowed a rotating supply of books. Three at a time. When he was finished with one, he simply placed it in the slot his meals came through and another would replace it. He had no choice in the selection, but it was mostly classical literature, which he enjoyed. There was no television, no radio, no music and no means of communication with the world outside. For the next months, he would have no contact with or any interaction with any other human being.

That was the way he preferred it.

Asami was a man who needed no one. Certainly he appreciated those that made his life easier; certain individuals that he respected and allowed to assist him in his endeavors, but _need_? No. He did not ‘need’ anyone.

And so, twenty nine year old Asami Ryuichi settled in, expecting to spend the remaining six months of his eighteen month sentence alone with his thoughts, in the company of the person he liked best; himself.

But that wasn’t what happened.

In the quiet and the silence of that empty cell, he found that he had an unwanted companion. Every so often he would hear the sound of familiar laughter and turn his head. Sometimes he would feel agile fingers run their way through his hair or gentle lips kiss his cheek. With the lights on it was easy to disregard as noise from another cell or the rustling of the air conditioning turning itself on and off. But in the late hours of the night…. it was impossible to dismiss. Impossible to escape.

Every night, in the dark, that slender body would come and lay next to him, naked and willing. He would press himself against him, his young nubile body flushed and warm. He would silently beg with his lips and hot mouth…. And that, Asami had no defense against.

He tried to stop it, to ignore it, to think of something else. He told himself it wasn’t real. That the boy was gone. That the only thing that haunted him was their unfinished business.

It wasn’t real.

But it didn’t matter. His fantasies were as real as the memories they had made together. It was strange how every other lover Asami had ever had was instantly forgotten. As soon as they were out of his bed, they vanished into an endless pile of faces and bodies Asami placed no importance on remembering.

But not the boy.

No, he remembered everything. Every pleasured sigh, every frightened whimper, every lustful moan. He remembered the sweep of his long dark eyelashes, the curve of his cheek and the bow of his lips.

He remembered the way the hollow of his throat had felt on his tongue. The way his pink little pucker had fearfully contracted against Asami's lips. It had tasted like salt and innocence. The boy had been frightened. As he well should have been, tied and trussed up on Asami’s desk like a pagan sacrifice to a blood thirsty God.

Asami didn’t know why he did it. The photographer was young, much too young for him. Too young, too foolish and too innocent. He shouldn’t have done it. He should never have touched him. But he just…. hadn’t been able to stop himself.

He should have just killed him. In fact, he had sent his men after the photographer with that very intention, to send a message to the newspaper he worked for and any other intrepid photographers that might come sniffing around his business. But then he had seen how young he was…. how beautiful…. and he changed his mind. Then he had intended to simply frighten him. To let him wake up alone, tied and vulnerable with the knowledge that Asami _could_ have killed him. He wanted to teach him a lesson, but then the boy had woken up and glared at him with those eyes.

Those bold, brave, beautiful eyes.

He had to have him.

Like air or water or sustenance. He had to have him. And Asami was not a man used to denying himself the things he wanted. So he did. He had him in every way the boy could be had. He touched every inch of that velvety soft skin and tore his innocence from his body amidst screams of pain and pleasure.

He thought it would be enough. But it wasn’t. And even after he had saved his life that day on the docks, the way the boy had looked at him… equal parts anger and confusion, bravely vowing to ‘catch him by the tail’. His helpless anger and the indignant, sparkling fire in his eyes, it had been entrancing. Those eyes.

Asami had found himself, for the very first time, unable to forget.

And Akihito was absolutely unforgettable.

The boy haunted him. He found himself going back for more and more, tasting a fruit he knew was forbidden. Perhaps it was his innocence that he craved. Akihito had so much and Asami had none left. He had killed, tortured, destroyed lives and families and even nations. He was a criminal of the worst kind. And yet…. Akihito had not run from him. He stood toe to toe, impudently challenging him at every turn. Fearless. Ignorant. Innocent.

He wanted to tear that out of him. He wanted to tear his impudent innocence from him, to leave him in pieces, to show the boy once and for all how dark and dangerous the world was and see those blue eyes cowed and afraid.

But Asami couldn’t do it.

And it was not for lack of trying.

It didn’t matter how many times he took him, how dark the places he went, how afraid, how hurt…. how hopelessly outgunned, outmaneuvered, outfoxed and outnumbered Akihito was… he never gave up. He never lost that shiny innocence and youthful pluck. His spirit was unbreakable. It didn’t matter what darkness he saw, the light in his eyes was as bright as the day he first met him. Asami found addicting. And so, every time Akihito ran, Asami chased.

It was a game they played and Asami intended to win. He intended to beat Akihito.

But in the end, it was Akihito who had beaten him.

He had chased the boy to his squalid little apartment, in the middle of the night and he had taken him again. But that time was different. Akihito’s body had welcomed his in a way it never had before. And when he had turned to leave, his hand had clutched at Asami’s coat, as if to prevent him from leaving. As if… he wanted him to stay.

That one telling motion was what kept his eighteen month sentence from being a ten year sentence.

Akihito had recorded every moment of that night in his apartment and he turned it into the District Attorney’s office. And pressed charges.

Asami didn't know if Akihito had understood the seriousness of his actions at the time, but he supposed the boy probably didn't. It was more likely he had been angry and hurt by Asami's mocking of him that night and it was his way of trying to get his own back a little.

But the moment he turned over that tape, the DA latched onto it like a pitbull. He had been trying to put Asami behind bars for years.

Turns out; sodomy is illegal in Japan. And so is sex with a minor.

Akihito was only sixteen and a half.

At sixteen, wards of the state were given the option of legal emancipation, once they showed they could support themselves. It meant they would no longer be eligible for state funded housing or aid, but it also meant that they would be free to leave the orphanage and live independently. Akihito had chosen emancipation the day he had turned sixteen.

Asami had known all this. He just hadn’t cared. And he never thought the boy would have the balls…. or the brains…. to use it against him.

Akihito had truly caught him by the tail.

His dick, as it were.

Asami had laughed all the way to the courtroom, sure that his influence and his money would ensure a dismissal of all charges. Nothing ever stuck to him. He couldn’t wait to lord it over Akihito, to taunt the boy with his invincibility. He thought he was untouchable. It wasn’t the first time Asami had been in that courtroom, before that judge…. but it was the first time she had smiled.

His attorneys had been blindsided. The video evidence was undeniable, combined with the audio of the boy repeatedly denying his desire to engage in sexual intercourse. He had asked Asami not come any closer, not to touch him. He had begged Asami to let him go.

The evidence was overwhelming, damning and Asami was convicted of sexually assaulting and sodomizing a minor. Second degree statutory rape.

He was sentenced to ten years in prison.

Even Akihito had been surprised by the verdict. He still remembered the horrified, almost dismayed look that flashed across the boy’s face as he watched Asami be cuffed and led out of the courtroom. His expressive eyes had been filled with sorrow and regret.

The boy had been playing a game, a game he himself had not even expected to win.

But he had.

Asami’s lawyers were later able to get the charges decreased from second degree rape to a fourth degree rape based on the video evidence displaying that they had had sexual relations before and that it was not entirely non-consensual. But behind bars Asami remained, for eighteen long months.

At first, he had raged against Akihito. He had been furious. He had imagined all the ways he might torture the boy and make him scream. But it hadn’t lasted long. His fury quickly turned to admiration. Akihito had told him what he was going to do from the start. He had told him he would catch him and Asami hadn’t listened. He hadn’t thought the boy capable of it. He had underestimated him and taunted him mercilessly at every opportunity. Could Akihito really be blamed for lashing back? For striking at Asami in the only way he could?

It took nearly eight months for Asami to finally accept the fact that his imprisonment was his fault and his alone. He had been bested, pure and simple. A sixteen year old boy had accomplished what all the cops and detectives and attorneys in Shinjuku had failed to do. Akihito had singlehandedly brought the Dragon of Tokyo to his knees.

After that, his anger turned to admiration and the admiration…. well that soon turned to something else entirely.

His men remained loyal, ever competent and the wheels of Asami’s business continued to turn, thanks to the well oiled cogs of the machine he had built. Kirishima came by for weekly reports detailing every gain and loss of territory and merchandise. The impact of Asami’s incarceration had not been as severe as one might have thought. There was an immediate play for his territory when he was sentenced for ten years, but the moment that was overturned to eighteen months, most of the interlopers pulled back. Eighteen months was not very long at all. And no one wanted to be on the sharp end of the Dragon’s teeth when he came back, more vicious and ruthless than ever.

A few made attempts on his life, thinking he might be more vulnerable inside bars, without his guns and his men to protect him.

They were wrong. Asami did not become the man he was by being afraid to get his hands dirty. Each and every man sent to kill him ended up on ice. The last one, Asami killed with a plastic spork.

For fun.

And to send a message.

The message was received and that was the last attempt at assassination, but the warden had him placed in solitary regardless. Eighteen men dead meant eighteen inspections and interviews about the ‘safety’ of the facility by government officials. Since Asami Ryuichi had stepped foot in it, the Sugamo prison had ranked highest in inmate deaths. The numbers were starting to make the warden look bad. Plus, the bureaucrat was tired of the paperwork.

And thus, Asami was retired to the blissful serenity of solitary confinement.

For the first time in a year, he was able to relax. For the first time, instead of the constant jarring banter of the other convicts, all he could hear as silence. Blissful, rapturous silence.

All Asami had to do was think.

And think he did....

About Akihito.

For the first year, Kirishima had brought him reports about the boy’s every move. His comings, his goings, his friends, his job, where he drank and ate and slept…. at first, Asami had plotted revenge. But as time passed and his anger faded into something else, he continued to request the reports. For no other reason than he simply…. wanted to know. He wanted to know about Akihito’s life. And he needed to know if he still belonged to him. The thought of someone else touching his boy was agonizing. Each and every report he read over with hot, jealous eyes to see if Akihito had found someone else. To see if he had taken a new lover.

He never did.

Asami had a few pictures of him, that he used to sit and hold. He would stare at the photographs for hours. But the guards had taken them away when he was placed in solitary. Now all he had was his memories.

But that was more than enough.

He remembered him well. So well. He remembered the way his lips tasted; sweet like the candy he loved. He remebered the way his lips felt, plush and wet and soft, parting to allow Asami’s tongue into the hot cave of his mouth, just as Asami penetrated his body. He had watched his face, fascinated by the almost pained expression there. But then Akihito’s eyes had opened into his. They were dark with passion and full of fiery energy. Here in the pale breast of this innocent man-child, his young lolita boy, burned a lust and desire as strong as Asami’s. When they came together, it was fire playing with fire, dancing in the dark, each trying to consume the other.

Asami had smirked and one of his hands had moved to Akihito’s hard little cock, caressing the length of it. Leaning in, he thrust his hips forward, nudging the boy’s prostate while mimicking the motion with his tongue in his mouth. Akihito had cried out in pleasure his slender hips rising to meet Asami’s hands, revealing moisture that was clearly not water at the mushroomed tip. He ran his thumb over, using the slick to allow him to move more easily over the shaft. As his hand slid over smooth flesh and his cock thrust into the velvet heat of that small body, Asami watched his face intently, soaking in every flicker of emotion the boy tried to hide from him; his confusion, his unwilling arousal, his blatant need…

It was the first time he had ever done that before, focused entirely on his partner.

Not that he was a selfish lover by any means, but before, it had always been about him. He had pleased his lovers because it pleased him. Because, if Asami was completely honest, his ego was far too large to accept that anyone wasn't fully satisfied by their sexual encounter with him.

But still, it had never been like it was with Akihito.

It wasn’t two bodies using each other to masturbate. He moved in him and Akihito moved around him, each conscious of the other’s pleasure and trying to heighten it. Though Akihito’s lashes would tremble and he would close his eyes to escape from the intensity, each time their gazes met, it seared into both of them.

His beautiful body would writhe and tense when he was close, his cries turning breathless as his hips increased their pace, his thighs contracting around Asami’s body. That was when Asami would take his head in his hands and force him to face him. Against those pretty pink lips, he would murmur, his breath hot in the boy’s mouth, “Open your eyes Akihito”

He would refuse stubbornly at first, pink and flushed and overwrought, so close to rapture. Those beautiful blue eyes would remain closed, to block Asami out. His long dark lashes fanned over blushing cheeks, as he whimpered and moved his hips anxiously trying to push himself over the edge. So pretty. So needy. But that wasn’t what Asami wanted.

So he stopped. He would stop all movement, leave his cock buried deep inside, pressing against the sensitive little sweet spot and he would wait patiently.

All night if he had to.

Because it wasn’t enough to quench his lust and his ego in the boy’s young flesh. Asami wanted more than that.

His voice would be calm, but edged in hot steel, “Open your eyes kitten.”

At that, the boy would look up, his eyes flashing mutinously. And Asami’s gaze would be waiting for him, capturing those lovely orbs, burning into him until he trembled. Then Asami would begin again, sliding rhythmically in and out, increasing the pace, giving the boy what he wanted…. but only if he kept his eyes wide open.

They were so expressive and clear, allowing Asami to see all the things he tried so desperately to hide. No more bluster or shielding. In that moment, Akihito was laid bare.

And what he saw in them shook Asami to the core each and every time.

With each thrust of his hips he brought him closer and closer, forcing the boy to ride the edge of pain and pleasure. Akihito would gasp and sometimes his eyes would flicker closed as he approached his climax.

But then Asami would stop.

The boy soon learned not to break eye contact. Not ever.

For in those eyes, was everything Asami wanted. Akihito begged with his eyes. He pleaded.

He confessed.

All the things he would never say out loud. Not in a thousand years.

But as Akihito’s eyes darkened and his pupils bloomed, his body pulsed and his loins contracted, their eyes connected and Asami knew.

He knew how Akihito felt about him.

Even from all the way across that cold, hard courtroom, the moment their eyes met, Asami knew.

It took him twelve months in a cage followed by six months of silence for Asami to realize how he felt about Akihito. Every day missing him, every night dreaming of him. There was no escape from his thoughts and his thoughts were always full of Akihito. He came into his mind unbidden and inescapable. His every waking moment, he relived every touch, every caress, every word they had spoke. Every moment they had shared. And slowly over time, he began to see what it was he had wanted from him. What he had been trying to take.

It wasn’t his innocence or his body. It wasn’t lust that drove him to seek Akihito out again and again. It wasn’t a power play or a game.

It was what he saw in those eyes, when the boy was stripped bare and his heart was laid open.

It was love.

And Asami had come to need it.

The man who needed no one, needed love.

Six long months later, they came for him and escorted him to the front desk. He removed that orange jumpsuit like a man peeling off his old life. With each item of clothing he put on, he resembled the man he had been more and more. The three piece suit was the same, the expensive leather loafers, the slicked back hair. The clothes had not changed.

But the man inside them had.

He was wiser. And older. But then, so was Akihito. He would have turned eighteen two months ago. He was legal now. Asami contemplated that delightful fact while he slipped his hand into his breast pocket and pulled out a half empty box of Dunhills. Kirishima was waiting for him at the prison gate with a lighter in hand.

He clicked the flame and lit Asami’s cigarette in silence. He waited for the large man to take a deep pull, the smoke curling into his lungs, before he spoke, “Good to see you sir.”

Asami nodded, “Likewise.”

He opened the back door of the limo and Asami climbed in.

“Where to sir? Would you prefer to go home to the penthouse first or straight to Sion?

Asami took another long drag of his cigarette before answering. There was only one place he wanted to go. Home.

But it wasn’t at the penthouse.

He rattled off the address. Despite having only been there once, he knew it by heart. If Kirishima was surprised, he did not show it. The black limo flew on the dark streets of Tokyo until finally it slowed, stopping in front of a row of squalid little apartments. There was one window, amidst a myriad of others, that shined the brightest to Asami’s eyes. The older man wondered if the boy had changed much. He was certain he would be taller. Perhaps more muscular. But one thing was certain, no matter how much time passed, those eyes would not change. Those bold, brave, beautiful eyes would be the same. How would Akihito react to seeing him again? Would he be angry? Frightened? .... Overjoyed? He wondered if Akihito had heard his voice late at night and felt his hands on his body. He wondered if the boy had turned his head in a crowd, his eyes following every broad pair of shoulders in a suit until he was sure it wasn't Asami. He wondered if Akihito had missed him the way he had missed the boy. He wondered if the past eighteen months had been as illuminating for Akihito as it had been for him.

The light shined from his window like a beacon calling Asami home. He wondered if it was on purpose, if Akihito had stayed up for a reason. He wondered if he was waiting for him. There was no doubt in Asami’s mind that Akihito knew he was being released from prison today. And yet, the light in that window still shone brightly. Unafraid. As sending out a message; ‘Here I am, come and get me. I’ll run no longer.”

Asami smiled and shook his head, “Love is like war Kirishima.”

His secretary was confused, “How is that, sir?”

“Easy to start…. impossible to finish.”

The large man smirked and stubbed out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe as he gazed at that light and the slender shadow that moved across it. He felt certain now, Akihito was waiting. Waiting for his lover to come back home to him. Theirs was a story that was impossible to finish, Asami well knew.... but he would spend the rest of his life trying.

Kirishima stood at the base of the steps and watched his boss disappear before getting back in the limo and driving away. He knew he would have no need of his services til the morning. This time around, Asami would not be leaving. He smiled to himself. He had known what was between them from the moment they met.

And Asami never was one to leave unfinished business.

 


	2. Open Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Miyanoai for her amazing story outline and making sure that I actually got this done, and then beta-ing it for me. She's awesome! A big, big thank you!!!

 

For the first few weeks after the trial, he had been too afraid to even go outside.

Akihito had always faced the world with a mixture of bluster and bravado; a pretense that he was braver than actually he was. The truth was that he was afraid. He was sixteen, barely more than a child and he was utterly alone in the world. Of course he was afraid. But his time in the orphanage had taught him to hide that. Fear drew the cruel like hungry sharks. And so he masked his fear with a mixture of youthful impudence, swagger and false courage. It had served him well, until it landed him right into the path of the biggest, hungriest shark of them all: Asami Ryuichi.

The shark hadn’t been content to devour him merely once. That, Akihito could have stood. What broke him was the way Asami toyed with him, over and over again, playing with his emotions and his feelings, taking away his dignity and his pride, time and time again. The worst thing was that he made him _want_ what Asami did to him. Crave it. Need it. He found himself thinking about Asami all the time. Wanting not just what the man did to his body, but something more. Something he himself didn’t even understand until one rainy night when it had all come to a head. Asami had come to his apartment, to his sanctuary, his home and taken him. He pushed him down and fucked him unconscious, then dumped him on the bed. And he had been about to leave, without so much as a goodbye when Akihito had let down his guard, just for the smallest moment and grabbed at Asami’s coat, asking him without words... to stay with him. Not to leave. Asami’s golden eyes had sparkled with amusement. He had pulled away and mocked Akihito for being clingy, asked him jeeringly if he wanted to spoon and then brushed him off.

He had left Akihito feeling used and dirty, like a whore. Though, at least whores got paid. He was just a toy. Akihito had angrily brushed away his tears and then suddenly remembered that Asami had knocked while Akihito was in the middle of testing his new video surveillance equipment. He had caught everything on film. He watched the tape with tears in his eyes. He watched Asami cruelly holding him down, taking what he wanted, disregarding his wishes, taking pleasure in his shame. He watched himself give in, succumbing to the older man’s power and sexual prowess, small and helpless under his much greater strength. Akihito cried that night.

And then he got mad.

The next morning he made a copy and took the tape to the police, filing a rape report and giving a statement. But after he had done it, he immediately regretted it. Asami would see it for it was, a futile attempt by a petulant, spurned lover to get back at him. He would bury the tape, like he did with every other shred of evidence that linked him to his crimes. The man had connections all the way to the top. Akihito felt like an utter fool. He could already hear Asami’s laughter in his ears.

But that night while he was watching the news, looking for new leads for the magazine, he was astounded to see Asami being led out of Club Sion. In handcuffs.

The blond anchorwoman read off the charges: child molestation, rape and sodomy of a minor. Akihito's heart dropped to his feet.

The judge threw the book at the older man. Asami had enough minor offenses that she was able to hold him without setting bail. She knew as well as Akihito did that there was no amount she could set that Asami could not afford to pay. The next few weeks were a whirlwind of terror and confusion, the only real memory Akihito had was of Asami’s golden eyes, always mocking him from across the courtroom. He had been terrified of what was going to happen the moment the trial was over and the powerful man was declared innocent, unleashed back onto the streets of Tokyo. Asami’s cold smirk promised retribution of the cruelest nature. Akihito knew he was going to make him pay for every moment of indignity he had suffered in the courtroom, for soiling his name in such a public way.

But it wasn’t until the jury read the verdict that Akihito understood what true fear really meant.

The world stopped for him in that moment.

He was sure he had heard wrong. Guilty. They had declared him guilty and sentenced him to ten years in prison. Ten years. Ten years.

Ten years.

His jaw had dropped and he had stared at Asami in horrified regret, he had not meant for this to go this far…he hadn’t meant.... The dark haired man had slowly turned to face him, his eyes glittering with anger and rage. His hate filled gaze had not left Akihito, even as the officers had cuffed him and led him from the courtroom.

For weeks, Akihito had been too afraid to even leave his apartment, staying away from all the windows and doors. He kept having nightmares of masked men with guns breaking in, shooting him or worse. He woke up every night in a cold sweat. Only the threat of eviction forced Akihito from his apartment and back onto the streets of Tokyo looking for work. Every footstep behind him had his throat closing in terror, bile rushing into his throat. He knew Asami would not let him go so easily.

In Akihito’s terrorized mind, he was everywhere. Behind every corner. In every dark alleyway. Waiting for him. Every man in a dark suit had him running away in fear. Most were simply ordinary business men going about their daily grind. But Akihito slowly came to realize that his paranoia wasn’t completely unwarranted. There were men following him. Two of them. They tailed him day after day. Staking out his apartment, following him to work, occasionally taking pictures of him. They weren’t subtle about it either. They followed him relentlessly, terrorizing him, making him wonder why, and when they were going to strike. But one day Akihito was almost mugged on his way home from work and Asami’s men beat his attacker to a pulp. That was when Akihito realized Asami had no intention of killing him. Not yet.

The men were a blatant message that Akihito could not run, could not hide from him. That Asami's reach extended well beyond the prison walls. He was keeping track of him; to what end Akihito could only guess.

The days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months.

Akihito’s thoughts were always full of Asami. Always wondering; what he was doing, what he was thinking, how he was faring in prison without his slick suits and expensive cigarettes. Akihito contemplated going to see him, once he even got on the bus, but he never did. He didn’t know what to say and he feared the inevitable hatred he would find in those golden eyes. He was both relieved and terrified when the statutory rape conviction was downgraded and Asami's sentence was shortened from ten years to eighteen months.

Slowly, Akihito’s fear turned to sorrow and the sorrow turned to regret and loneliness. Asami had been a prick, but he didn’t deserve to go to prison. There had been moments of genuine affection between them, kindness Asami had bestowed on him. He had been protective and demanding, he had never been truly gentle, but there were moments... few and far between... but there had been moments when he had almost been loving. And Asami had saved his life that day on the docks, he hadn’t had to do that. And this was how Akihito had repaid him. He felt so ashamed.

One day when the loneliness was too much to bear and the need to see him was too great, Akihito found himself watching that tape again. He watched it over and over and over again over the next few weeks. And each time he noticed something different, things he hadn’t before. He noticed that the heat in Asami’s eyes was more than lust. He noticed the hungry way the older man kissed him, as if he couldn’t get enough. He looked at the way Asami’s mouth pressed to his temple while he moved inside him and the way he touched his face so tenderly in the midst of the brutal, unforgiving way he used his body. He noticed that Asami seemed more focused on Akihito’s pleasure than his own. And when it was all over and Akihito was unconscious, he noticed the way Asami picked him up, holding him in his arms for far longer than necessary. He noticed the hand brushing against his neck, his thumb, caressing his skin so intimate that Akihito's breath caught in his throat and he finally realized that Asami _had_ cared about him and that he had hidden it behind a cold mask of intimidation and indifference, just as Akihito had hidden his own desires beneath a mask of anger and defiance. It hadn’t been rape, certainly not that time. It hadn’t been rape for a long, long time. He had wanted it just as much as Asami did, it was just easier for him to hide behind the denial, to hide from what he really wanted and the fear of rejection. It was simply easier to reject Asami first.

He found himself staring out the window each night, looking toward the west, toward Sugamo prison, wondering if Asami was staring out, looking back at him. He no longer wanted to run from those eyes. The men in black felt like a caress, a stamp of Asami’s ownership. He welcomed their presence, even found himself unconsciously looking for their cameras. For he knew they were Asami’s eyes, and that in some small way, Asami was looking back at him. He found himself hearing his voice late at night, feeling the weight of him, the heat of his hands on his body, but then he would wake, hard and hot and alone. And the disappointment was almost palpable.

The desire to be with him again was so strong sometimes it hurt, aching like a wound in his chest.

Akihito knew he would see him again. He knew when. And he knew where. The only question in his mind was what Asami was going to do. He couldn’t imagine Asami being anything other than furious. He had cost him dearly; a year and a half of his life and who knew how many countless billions. He had cut his reputation to the ground in the eyes of the public, in a humiliating way that there was no coming back from. If Asami had ever dreamed of going into politics, there was certainly no possibility of that now. No, Akihito knew there would be nothing but hate and anger for him in Asami’s eyes, any affection long gone, erased by his betrayal. But Akihito was prepared to face it. He needed to tell him, how sorry he was, how he had never meant for it to go so far. He needed to apologize. Once he said that, Akihito felt he would be able to move on, to leave the shame and regret behind and look at himself in the mirror with clear eyes. Yes, he needed to say it. What Asami did with it was his choice, but Akihito knew, he needed to say it. He owed him that much. He owed himself that much.

That determination was all well and good while Asami had still been in prison, locked safely away from guns and pointy objects. But when the day of his release came, it was an entirely different matter.

Akihito spent most of the day feeling like he was going to throw up.

He wished he had tried to make a run for it. He should have at least tried. Akihito paced back and forth. What had he been thinking? Thinking to offer Asami an apology in hopes of what? Forgiveness? Asami Ryuichi was not the type of man to offer forgiveness and clemency. Not for something like what Akihito had done to him.

He was going to kill him. That was why his men had been keeping an eye on him. The reason why they hadn’t killed him already was that Asami wanted to do it himself.

Akihito wasn’t ready to die. His breath caught in his chest the moment he saw the sleek black limo pull up in front if his apartment and the tall broad shouldered silhouette that emerged had his heart pounding in his ears. He watched him slowly move like a dark shadow into the building. In his mind’s eyes he could hear his footsteps on the stairs, moving down the hall, coming to stand before his door. He contemplated jumping out the fire escape…

The knock on the door sent him jumping out of his skin. Akihito pressed himself to the far wall, willing his legs to move but it was like they were already in concrete boots, ready to carry him to the bottom of Tokyo Bay. Asami did not knock twice.

“Fwitt- Fwitt”

The door handle crumbled from the shots, the two metal pieces coming apart, dangling uselessly as the door swung open and the last barrier between them was removed. Before Akihito was ready, there he was, larger than life, more handsome and more dangerous than ever before. He stood in the doorway not ten feet from where Akihito stood with his back pressed against the wall. Akihito expected him to make a move, but he didn’t. He just stared at him with that hot golden gaze that felt like quicksand dragging him under.

Akihito’s heart pounded as he tried to read his expression and judge how angry he was. He fought to control his trembling, the shaking was almost violent, like his body was trying to tear itself apart before Asami could do it. The older man’s narrowed eyes were fixed on him like a cat that had cornered a mouse and could not wait to play with it. He caught the familiar slant of his thick, black hair brushing over his high forehead, the firm shape of his arms and the smooth breadth of his strong chest. He was still just as handsome as he had ever been, Akihito begrudgingly acknowledged. It had never helped that he did not look the part of a cruel demon, only played it. He seemed even bigger than Akihito remembered, his shoulders and biceps practically straining the seams of his expensive suit. Akihito supposed there wasn’t a lot to do in prison besides work out.

And plot his revenge.

Asami prowled towards him and the boy moved on instinct, rotating around the room to put the table between them. Asami stopped and so did Akihito.

“Takaba.” There was a tone in his voice that was all too familiar, warning him not to run, that if he did, Asami would make things harder on him.

Suddenly Akihito’s anger flared and he remembered why he had been angry enough to send that blasted tape to the police in the first place. He wasn’t some dog to be brought to heel, a weeping willow who would fall at Asami’s feet just because he snapped his fingers. He wasn't going to face him like a cornered animal. Not after all this time. Akihito lifted his chin and stared right back. He wasn’t going to cower or beg, if he was going to die tonight, he would die like a man. He wouldn’t give Asami the satisfaction of seeing his fear, “Asami.”

Akihito cleared his throat and then spoke with more bravado than he felt, “What brings you to my door at this hour?”

Asami's handsome face was like a mask. He drawled his answer, “Unfinished business.”

The boy smirked and crossed his arms over his racing heart, “I’ll bet.”

They stared at each other over four feet of empty space that neither were willing to cross. Asami’s eyes raked over his body, making Akihito wish he had put on more than jeans and a skimpy tank top.

Asami spoke softly, as if surprised, “You’re still so small.”

Akihito frowned angrily. The fact that he had not grown was a bit of a sore spot. He had hoped he might hit some kind of growth spurt while Asami was away, that they would be eye to eye by the time he got out. Fate laughed at his hopes. He had gained barely an inch and he certainly didn’t appreciate Asami poking fun of still diminutive height.

“And you’re still an asshole; if you are going to kill me just get on with it and skip the insults.”

A flicker of what Akihito almost thought was disappointment passed over Asami’s face but it was quickly consumed by anger. His dark brows narrowed, “You think I’m here to kill you?”

Akihito rolled his eyes, “What? Are you surprised I didn’t run? I’m not running from you Asami. I’m not a coward and I’m certainly not afraid of you.”

“No?”

“No.”

Dark brows pulled tightly together, “You betrayed me. You drug my name through the mud. You cost me billions upon billions. Do you know how many men were sent to kill me while I was in prison?”

Akihito gasped at that. It hadn’t even occurred to him how dangerous prison might be for Asami, how his enemies might try to take advantage. He had simply assumed Asami was invincible, no matter where he was.

Asami growled, planting his hand on the table, “Eighteen.”

He stared back at him wild-eyed.

“One for each month I was locked up in that hellhole. You took a year and a half of my life Akihito, time I can never get back. I did try to make good use of it though. I had eighteen long months to plan this moment.”

His hand slipped into his suit coat.

Akihito broke for the window.

The other man flashed into action, tossing the flimsy table aside with a loud crash, the knick-knacks and salt and pepper shakers shattering on the floor. Asami dragged him back and away from the window, his hard hand covering his mouth and muffling the scream of frustrated defeat. Akihito fought him wildly, twisting and kicking under the other man’s enormous weight. He couldn't break free of him, couldn't get away. He was so big and powerful, he had a good eight inches of height and probably seventy pounds of solid muscle on him. Akihito knew the moment Asami caught hold of him, it was over, but he wasn’t willing to give up. He snapped his head back. It connected, solidly cracking against his jaw bone, snapping Asami’s head to the side, loosening his grip just enough for him to wiggle free. Akihito flashed away, still frantic on trying to make it to the window but Asami caught him. He rolled back to his feet quickly for such a big man, moving faster now, using Akihito’s own momentum against him, spinning him back to the ground and taking advantage of his disorientation to flip him onto his stomach and twist his arm behind his back. Locking it there. Akihito struggled, but it was useless.

He was silent. Panting and trying to think of an escape. There wasn’t one. Asami pressed harder and Akihito groaned, he could feel the pressure building in the joint. The ligaments that held the ball in the socket were starting to give. If he pressed much harder, he would dislocate his shoulder. The waiting was agony.

He slammed his free hand on the floor and screamed at him, “Fuck you Asami, just do it already! Get it over with!”

Asami snarled and for a moment the pressure increased and Akihito thought he might actually do it. But suddenly the pressure was removed and Asami’s weight fell from his body. He panted for breath as his lungs were allowed to re-expand. Asami’s slick black loafers moved to stand in front of him. Akihito lifted his head back to glare at him and was meet with the barrel of Asami’s gun.

The older man’s face was cold and hard, his finger on the trigger. Akihito froze. For all his bluster, he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to die.

Asami’s voice was hard, “Strip.”

No.

No. No. No. He couldn’t do this. Asami couldn’t be so cruel. He couldn’t. Not to rape him before killing him. Akihito shook his head, his eyes wide and full of fear.

Asami nudged the barrel into the softness under his chin and hissed at him, his golden eyes narrowed into slits, “Strip. Don’t make me repeat myself Takaba.”

Akihito whimpered softly as he pulled his tank top off, slowly moving to stand. Hot tears sparked behind his eyelids as he unbuttoned his pants under Asami’s watchful gaze and slid them from his narrow hips. His boxers fell to the floor right after and Akihito stood before his enemy, naked and vulnerable, with his pants around his ankles, shielding his privates with his hands.

He motioned to the floor with the gun, “Kneel.”

His heart cold and heavy in his chest, he did as he was commanded. In the face of that gun all of Akihito’s false bravery evaporated into thin air. He was terrified of guns. Asami knew this. And now he was using that against him.

He brushed his clothes from beneath him and slowly knelt on the cold tile floor, feeling the grout between the tiles bite into his knees.

“Is this what you wanted Akihito? Did you want to know how I hated you? How I laid awake on that miserable bitch of a prison bed and dreamed of you like this, terrified, on your knees? Begging me for your life?”

Akihito couldn’t meet his eyes, he stared at the floor between Asami’s expensive loafers, away from the barrel of that terrifying gun. Akihito hated himself for that, hated himself even more for the tears in his eyes and the fear that was making him nauseous in his belly. Of course Asami would do it like this. Asami would never give him the dignity of a quick death, no. He had to be a prick about it.

“I’m not going to beg you.“ Akihito said, still staring at the floor. His voice sounded thin and weak in his own ears and Akihito hated it. Hated that Asami still had the power to make him feel like this, small and weak and helpless…. and afraid. But he wouldn’t give Asami the satisfaction of begging for his life, “Just fucking do it already.”

Asami grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, forcing the gun against his lips. Akihito gasped in surprise, his mouth opening just slightly, enough for Asami to force it into his mouth, knocking brutally against his teeth. He tried to jerk his head away, struggling harder when Asami grabbed the back of his head and forced him still. He could taste blood from his split lip, along with metal, oil and gunpowder. He gagged and tried to pull away yet again, but Asami’s hand tightened in his hair in clear warning. Akihito stilled and Asami pushed the gun further into his mouth, easing back only slightly when Akihito gagged again, retching almost violently

“Suck.”

His lashes fluttered and Akihito’s cheeks hollowed as he began to suck, sheer terror driving every thought of resistance from his mind. He didn’t want to die like this. He didn’t want to die.

Asami towered over him, looking like a giant from Akihito’s vantage point, kneeling at his feet on the floor, “This is what you thought I would do isn’t it? Terrorize and humiliate you. Make you cry and scream. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. If I hadn’t craved seeing you _just_ like this.”

He pushed the gun further into Akihito’s mouth one more time, scraping the tip against the very back of his tongue. The barrel of the Beretta was too short to reach the back of his throat but it big and hard and made him retch painfully. The trigger guard cut into his lip before Asami pulled it back, withdrawing from his mouth with a string of spit connecting Akihito’s lips to the metal. It stretched and then snapped, slinging back onto Akihito’s chin, making it look as if he was drooling.

The moment the gun was removed from his mouth he took a short ragged breath in, finally able to fill his lungs again, relief washing over him.

It didn’t last long.

Asami’s grip in his hair tightened, forcing him from the floor, to stand or have his hair ripped out by the root. He dragged him down the hall and then shoved him forward, throwing him onto the bed. The cold metal pressed against him, bumping painfully down over the knots of his spine, parting his full bottom and then shoved hard against his hole, bending it in and stretching the skin. He jerked forward with a pained gasp.

“I wanted to make you pay. I wanted my revenge. I wanted to _hurt_ you. ”

Akihito sobbed involuntarily, his voice hoarse, rough and wrecked. Asami settled himself between his legs, pushing them wide apart. He had never felt more vulnerable in his life. The muscles in his thighs bunched and quaked. He bit down on his fist to keep from screaming. Asami ground the barrel against his tender hole cruelly, slicked only by Akihito’s own spit, before roughly shoving it forward, piercing his most intimate place in the most violent way possible. Akihito’s mouth opened in a silent scream, the cruel metal as large as a cock, but hard, cold and unyielding, burning as it split his flesh. He gasped uselessly, desperate for air that he couldn’t quite get into his lungs. His chest heaved and his eyes stared blindly ahead as tears wet his cheeks.

“I wanted to make you pay for what you did. I wanted your fear Takaba. I wanted your tears and your hate and your regret. I wanted your terrified screams and your pain and agony. I dreamed about it, I hungered for it, thirsted…. ”

The gun withdrew from him, leaving his rectum bruised and tender, but not torn. He heard it placed on the floor. Akihito whimpered as Asami lifted him and rolled him gently over onto his back. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut in terrified anticipation of what he was going to do to him next, his fists drawn up close to his face. He tensed as he felt the large man move closer, the bed shifting and dipping as Asami crawled on top of him, his hand slipping up his neck, the other tracing the bone of his hip. Akihito shuddered. He could feel Asami’s gaze burning on his face, but he kept his eyes closed, even as Asami’s hand moved down to his thigh. He cringed when rough fingers stroked his limp cock and then finally realized what Asami was going to do was almost worse than killing him.

He was going to rape him again.

And he was going to make him like it.

Akihito began to cry brokenly, tears coursing down his face, disappearing into the blond hair at his temples. Asami traced the tracks almost reverently with his thumbs, “There was a time when I wanted all of that Takaba. I sat in that prison cell and all I could think of was you, punishing you, hurting and humiliating you, just like this. I plotted revenge against you in vivid detail, how I would do it, where and when. I had it all planned out. I kept my men on you to make sure you couldn’t escape, to try and keep you under my thumb. I was obsessed with you. I still am.”

Asami’s breath was hot on his throat, teasing and nipping at the tender skin, “It took me a long time to realize that what I felt for you wasn’t hate. Whats between us could never be so simple as hate. I don’t hate you Akihito just as you don’t hate me. If we did, what we did to each other wouldn’t hurt so much. It hurt so much, what you did. So much so, it felt like my heart was a burning ball of fire in my chest, searing me from the inside out like the sun. But hate doesn’t burn like that, it freezes your heart like ice, then thaws and leaves you empty and cold. My heart to this day, is still burning hot, on fire for you.”

Akihito shook his head in denial, biting the inside of his cheek until it bled. Asami was toying with him. He was always toying with him until Akihito never knew what was truth and what was a lie. Until he was so mixed up he didn’t know up from down. Akihito was sure Asami was lying, lulling him and waiting to strike, so he could laugh at his naivete.

“Open your eyes Takaba. Look at me and see the truth.” Gentle kisses were placed to his eyelids, tickling the lashes. Asami took his head in his hands and forced him to face him. Against his lips he murmured, his breath hot in his mouth, “Open your eyes Akihito.”

Akihito opened his eyes blearily, looking up at Asami through his tears. When his vision cleared he gasped. Asami’s eyes were always so cold, blank, impenetrable. They never let Akihito see behind the mask, for they had always been part of the mask itself. Until now.

He looked into them and saw regret and pain, he saw sorrow and an aching loneliness Akihito was all too familiar with. He looked into Asami’s eyes and saw tenderness, desire and affection. He saw heat. He saw longing. He saw raw need. He saw love.

He looked into Asami's eyes and saw himself.

Asami pulled him upright, tugging his naked body into his arms, holding him tight, burying his face in Akihito’s shoulder almost like a small child, his deep voice broken with longing, “I don’t hate you. I don’t want to hurt you. Not now, not ever. Never again. I want you to forgive me for all the harm I have done to you. I don’t want your regret. I don’t want your pain. I just want your forgiveness.”

Akihito began to sob with relief, his entire body shaking. His own remorse welled in his chest, choking his throat. What he had done had been worse than anything Asami had ever done to him. “Asami, you aren’t the one… it was me. I didn’t think... I was mad and I didn’t think. I didn’t know it would go so far… I didn’t realize…”

The large man shifted Akihito in his lap, lifting his dark head and tucking Akihito’s head under his own chin, like a child, cradling the back of his head in one large hand, “Sssh. I know. I know you didn’t mean it. I know. You had every right to be mad at me, to want to get back at me. You were just a boy Akihito, trying to protect yourself, in any way you could. It wasn’t your fault. You were only sixteen. I was the adult. I was the one responsible. I got myself locked up, not you.”

Akihito buried his face in Asami’s chest, the last eighteen months of stress and pain and loneliness and regret pouring out of him in anguished sobs.

Asami’s lips kissed his hair again and again and again, “I love you Akihito. I loved you from the beginning. I still love you. I will always love you.”

His heart pulled in his chest, tightening in familiar fear, he felt he was about to jump off a cliff and fall, if he took one more step. But Asami had already jumped. How could he do anything less?

Akihito took a deep breath and followed him over the edge with a soft whisper, “I love you too Asami.”

Strong arms closed tight around him, Asami’s sigh of relief was potent and palpable. He could feel the tension ooze from those broad shoulders almost immediately and Akihito responded with a soft smile. It was over, it was finally over. Akihito found his own arms twined around Asami’s neck, carding through his dark hair as Asami stroked his naked back. He sighed in pleasure, inhaling deeply the rich scent he had missed so much. Sandalwood, Dunhills and strength.

Akihito lashes drooped and he rested his head on Asami’s shoulder. He had been so afraid of what Asami was going to do to him, for so long, and now that it was over he almost felt faint with the heady rush of fight or flight hormones leaving him in their wake. Asami’s warm hands smoothed over his cold skin, slowly heating the flesh until Akihito squirmed in his lap.

His mouth was still tantalizingly close to his ear, "Beautiful boy. My beautiful boy." His hand was moving slowly over the swell of Akihito’s ass and inching toward the crevice beneath it. His cock was hard as a rock, he couldn’t help it. He had always been so affected by Asami’s touch. It was practically Pavlovian. Akihito knew he couldn’t hide his arousal, he hid just his flushed face in Asami’s neck and whimpered. The older man chuckled darkly at him.

He laid him back down on the bed, gently this time, so gently. Akihito could see him clearly now. The unadulterated lust written across his face. For a minute Asami just stared at him, his eyes moving over every inch of Akihito’s body remorselessly as if he were committing everything to memory; relearning and reclaiming every curve.

"You are so beautiful Akihito," he breathed while brushing his hand over his chest, thumbing his nipple. It immediately hardened at his touch and Akihito groaned in frustration at his traitorous body. Asami smiled and quickly ducked down and took it in his mouth. His other hand traveled back down to Akihito’s throbbing penis and took hold of it, stroking it knowingly.

“Nnngh!! Ah!!” he cried and Asami pulled back, smiling, as he tenderly swiped the blond hair out of Akihito’s eyes with one hand and with the other, mercilessly drove his finger all the way inside his bruised sex. It hurt, but in that aching burning way that only made him harder. “You’re so tight baby. So small. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

There was true regret in his eyes, but even still, he pressed his finger in harder, deeper, driving it against Akihito’s sweet spot making his body bloom with pleasure. Akihito gasped, “Then why- why did you?”

Asami withdrew his finger, leaving Akihito feeling empty and wanting. He stood and began to remove his clothes, revealing a body hardened and more muscular than Akihito remembered, with a few new scars as well. “You were so prepared for my anger, expecting me to want revenge, so convinced I hated you. I knew you would never see anything other than that as genuine. It was like a wall between us. No matter what I said, you would have thought it was a lie. You were waiting for me to hurt you, to punish you and I think part of you even wanted it. I decide to do what you were expecting, get it over with, so we could move past your fear and onto this.”

He grinned as he knelt on the bed, slicked his penis, and slid between Akihito’s legs. On the last word he thrust himself inside, claiming him all at once. Akihito cried out in pain, felt his body stretch painfully around him. Asami held still, murmuring in his ear and stroking his cock until finally the pain receded and he felt the tightness of his body ease around the hardness inside, as if he were made for it. Made for Asami.

He pulled out slowly and thrust back in with a groan and Akihito’s mind went blank. He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the wonderful feeling.

Asami leaned down to kiss him, claiming his lips, demanding, “Open your eyes."

Somewhere in his sex-addled mind, Akihito could hear him and he railed against his order. It was all still too fresh, his emotions still raw and bleeding. He didn’t want to open his eyes and let Asami see all of the mess inside his head.

But then he felt him descend again, pressing forward onto that throbbing bundle of nerves inside him. Akihito cried out, his insides quivering on the verge. Asami held still, and then began moving in tiny little circles, enough to keep him on the edge but not enough to go over. Akihito mewled in his throat and tried to move against him, to _take_ what he needed. Asami was too strong, he held him still; pinned like a bug on his back, legs spread wide and helpless against the throbbing weight in his core. He bent his head and nipped at Akihito’s ear, "You know how long I can hold out." He gave a warning thrust and Akihito unraveled, losing all sense, bucking up against him.

The boy looked up finally, his eyes flashing mutinously. Asami’s golden gaze was waiting for him. Normally they burned into him, making him feel naked and bared, taking everything but never giving anything back, always calm and in control. It had been Asami’s way of keeping a wall between them, even while he ruthlessly broke down all of Akihito’s defenses.

Asami began again, sliding rhythmically in and out, increasing the pace, giving him what he wanted. With each thrust of his hips he brought him closer and closer, forcing him to ride the edge of pain and pleasure. The entire time his eyes were locked on Akihito’s, but this time there were no walls between them. No more bluster or shielding. Asami hid nothing from him.

And what he saw in them shook Akihito to his core.

For in those eyes, was everything Akihito ever wanted. There was love and passion and tenderness, affection and commitment. There was a promise of forever.

As Akihito’s eyes darkened and his pupils bloomed, his body pulsed and his loins contracted, their eyes connected and Akihito felt himself fly right over that precipice, plunging straight into the bright, untroubled drop on the other side, soaring high as he took Asami over the edge with him. Somewhere, in some far away realm, he heard his lover growl his release and moan into the nape of his neck, “You are mine Akihito. For always.”

“Yours, Ryuichi,” Akihito sighed in answer, “For always.”

-

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